


Worth

by herbailiwick



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Matchmaking, Misunderstandings, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-05
Updated: 2012-11-05
Packaged: 2017-11-18 00:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herbailiwick/pseuds/herbailiwick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is back and is surprised to find that Mycroft and John haven't made up.</p><p>Rated G.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth

Even Sherlock is fairly surprised that he's in support of the idea. It won't be too terrible, though, really. Terrible is being all alone. Terrible is not having a flat to be bored in. 

Mrs Hudson and Molly get to organizing the party. 221B is looking like its former self again, and he and John are getting settled again. Sherlock expects Mycroft to come over. 

"I've texted him," Sherlock tells John, except John has stepped out to get the milk. "I figured he'd want to check up on me. He's not come by all week, though. Why is that? Why hasn't he?" 

Predictably, he receives no reply.

***

"Is there anyone else you want to invite, Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson asks.

"Mycroft. Sure, he won't be entirely comfortable, but I just spent much longer than an evening out there being very uncomfortable, so he'll just have to deal with it," Sherlock says decisively.

***

"Mycroft says he can't make it," Sherlock announces, hanging up. "But I think he's just being stubborn. You should ask him, John."

"No, that's alright," John says, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Sounds like he doesn't want to. Might not be his scene."

"And it's mine?"

"Hey, if you don't want a Welcome Back party, don't fake your death," John teases.

***

Mycroft won't come over to visit 221B at all, even after the party. 

"Mrs Hudson, did you say something to Mycroft?" Sherlock asks. "He's not coming round." He actually sounds slightly concerned.

"I was in on it all," she reminds Sherlock. "I've nothing to say to him. I even invited him to tea."

Sherlock frowns. "It doesn't make sense," he says. 

***

Sherlock goes to see Mycroft himself because he hasn't seen him since coming back to 221B. It goes well until Sherlock starts talking about John. Mycroft stiffens a bit at the mention of John, which makes Sherlock suspicious.

He's even more suspicious when Mycroft politely says, "I'd really prefer not to hear how he is, Sherlock."

Sherlock stares at him for a moment. "Because you already know how he is?"

Mycroft says nothing.

"Well, haven't you been keeping an eye on him?"

"That's someone else's job now," Mycroft explains.

Sherlock looks down, imagining what could have gone wrong. Oh. He straightens up, eyes flicking back to meet his brother's. "You didn't...tell him?"

"Hm? No. Nothing like that," Mycroft says, and Sherlock relaxes. "No, we just. We never made up." Mycroft looks away.

Sherlock looks a bit surprised. "Well," he says, "I'll fix it."

"Leave it. And that's an order, Sherlock."

"I don't take orders about John."

Mycroft's eyes narrow. "This doesn't concern you."

"On the contrary," Sherlock says. "I find myself highly concerned." He pauses at the fear in Mycroft's eyes. "Fine," he says quietly. "We'll wait."

***

"Did you indicate to Mycroft that you wanted nothing to do with him?"

"Of course," John says easily. "I mean, yes, you're back now. But what Mycroft did," John shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't exactly want to say hi. You have every right to see your brother. I've got Harry, remember, so I understand strange sibling dynamics. Just, let me know when, and I'll pop out."

John wonders why Sherlock looks so sad. He wonders why he stands to leave, putting his coat and scarf on.  

"John, if a car comes by at 7 tonight, will you get in?" He turns to look at John over his shoulder. "I'm asking you, as a friend."

"Okay," John says, slightly confused. "Yeah. If there's a car here, I'll get in."

***

Anthea is in the car. She glances at John, then starts typing.

"Hello," John says.

"Hello, John."

"I suppose I'm going to be forced to see Mycroft now."

"Yes," she agrees.

Just as John's about to get out and stand near Sherlock, who is waiting, she says, "Be gentle," looking straight at him. He meets her gaze and holds it for a moment. "Or as gentle as you can be," she adds. 

He stares at her questioningly. What does she know?

"Goodbye, John," she says firmly. "Best not to keep them waiting."

He gets out of the car, and she's gone. He's left with Sherlock, and soon they'll be joining Sherlock's brother.

***

"Mycroft's PA," John says, shaking his head.

"Yes?" says Sherlock.

"She wants me to go easy on Mycroft. Like I'm going to just crush him. It's all in the past now, yes? I'm here for your sake, you know. We'll get back to civility, and then we'll leave it, we'll just leave it."

Sherlock looks troubled.

"What?"

"John, before we go into this room, I'd like you to tell you something he doesn't want me to tell you, but he has to know I'm going to anyway."

"What?"

Sherlock starts to speak, but stops himself. He rests a hand on John's shoulder. He can't do it to Mycroft. "Just...perhaps you should have worn a different shirt," he says, and then heads into the restaurant. John hurries behind, a bit annoyed. 

Mycroft is fiddling with his napkin, and stops when he spots Sherlock and John. He smiles a reserved smile in welcome and stands, offering his hand to John, which John takes.

"Good of you to join us, John," he says, and then shakes Sherlock's hand. "And so good to see you, dear brother."

"I see the two of you didn't make up while I was gone," Sherlock says. 

"No, wasn't much reason to, was there?" John asks with a bit of a laugh, looking at the brothers. 

Mycroft says nothing.

"You two could have supported each other through my death. But, then, that's not how you work, is it, John?" Sherlock takes his seat.

"Like you would have been so much more open to support if the situation were reversed," John says with a smile that fades a bit as he realizes neither brother has started agreeing with him. He sits heavily and focuses on his own napkin. 

They order and chat a bit, but Mycroft doesn't say much compared to what John's used to. After a while he says, "You seem quiet," to Mycroft. Mycroft looks away.

"He's usually like this in public with others," Sherlock says dismissively, "unless he's schmoozing." Sherlock pulls the basket of bread over in front of him and peers inside dubiously.

"I'm fine," Mycroft tells John, but there's a flash of some sort of hurt in his eyes that he quickly does his best to hide. "Sherlock is exaggerating. I have my moments of sociability," he says with a small smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Before...everything that happened, we once sat in Speedy's and he told me you wanted to be a pirate when you were a boy," John says to Sherlock. "Is it true? Did you want to be a pirate?"

Sherlock tilts his head at John. "Among other things," he finally says. He turns to look at Mycroft, who's pulling the basket of bread back to the center of the table and taking a piece for himself. He busies himself with scraping the slightest amount of butter onto it.

"Maybe I'm just easy to talk to," John says with a shrug. "I think my ex-girlfriends would disagree, however." He's really struggling to keep the mood light. The scrutiny of the two Holmes brothers really sits hard in his stomach for some reason. He feels like he's let them down somehow, but he can't put a finger on how, and he isn't ready to ask.

"You know, John, with the exception of myself, I don't think he's ever shown much personal interest in anyone before," Sherlock says lightly.

"Probably not," jokes John. "But, the same could be said of you."

"Not entirely," Sherlock points out. "I've found others interesting before."

"Sherlock," Mycroft says in a tired tone.

"Look," Sherlock says firmly, causing Mycroft to glance up. "If the circumstances of our plan caused certain things to change, I'd like to try and change them back."

"You really don't have to," Mycroft says just as firmly. "And relationships aren't things."

"Says the schmoozer."

Mycroft's knife gently clinks against his plate, a bit of butter still adorning the side. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen," he says with a bow.

"What's he doing?"

"Hiding out in the loo, like a child."

"But why?"

"Because he missed us."

"Well, come on," John says with a bit of a smile. "He missed you, yes. But he didn't miss me."

"You _are_ kidding me?" Sherlock says, actually sort of reeling back. "Tell me you are." He searches John's face for signs that this is a joke too.

"About what?" John frowns. 

"John, you are such a perfect idiot."

"Sherlock."

"John, when he returns, promise me. You've got to be open to the idea that he may have missed you. Alright? Promise me."

"He knows so many people," John protests. "He schmoozes all the time, yes? He knows the bloody queen, Sherlock. Why on earth would he miss me? There's nothing about me worth—!" he pauses, realizing he's been raising his voice, then continues, more quietly, "He's been getting on just fine."

"Just fine!" Sherlock says, gripping at the tablecloth as he leans in toward John, much too close for John's comfort as John squirms away a bit. "Just fine!" he says in a harsh whisper. "He's not coming to 221B anymore. And it's not because of Mrs Hudson, and it's not because of me. He hasn't polished his watch since I returned. If he really did swap childhood stories at a cafe, this is serious."

"What?" John asks, pulling away as Sherlock seems to try and get even closer.

Suddenly, Sherlock sits up straight, steepling his fingers together and resting them against his lips. "You'll just have to let him know you enjoyed his company," he finally says.

"What?! No. Look, Mycroft is fine," John says, with perhaps a bit too much force.

Sherlock flicks his eyes over to John, but otherwise hardly moves. "You said it yourself that he's the more human of the two of us." John frowns, and Sherlock says, "You were insulting me at the time, but that still counts. Do you think I don't know when my own brother is...." Sherlock trails off, spotting Mycroft returning. "John, I _am_ looking round," he says. "Your shirt is fine. They aren't going to kick you out. No one minds, not really. They're too busy caught up in their expensive, boring lives."

John looks down at his shirt. "You're probably right," he says tentatively. "I, er, I'll just bear through." He smiles falsely wide at Mycroft. Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"If they tried to kick you out, I wouldn't let them," Mycroft says in his smooth voice, no doubt meaning it.

"Oh, you've got power even here, have you?" John says, wondering if his face is starting to heat.

Mycroft shrugs delicately and pulls the plate with his bread a bit closer.

"Sherlock says you missed me," John says.

"I'll bet he had his reasons. Detective work never finished, little brother?" Mycroft concentrates on the bread.

"Secrecy never finished, Mycroft?"

"It was...nice, meeting at Speedy's instead of some bloody warehouse," John says tentatively. "I don't suppose you missed that, though, did you?" he quickly adds, taking another look round the place. It was more Mycroft's scene.

Mycroft lightly shrugs.

"You know, you could actually answer me," John says a bit heatedly, only to be met by a blank stare.

"What is it, exactly, that you'd like me to say, Dr Watson?"

"Dr Watson? Okay. Yes. Fine. Alright, _Mr Holmes_ , I would like to know...why you missed me," John rushes out. "I was a means to an end, yes?"

"No," Mycroft says simply.

John swallows at the lump in his throat. The waiter comes by and sets their orders out in front of them, pouring wine. They thank him, and wait til he's gone to continue. Mycroft is watching John expectantly. So, for that matter, is Sherlock.

John sighs. "Truth be told, I missed it a bit too. It was fun to conspire against Sherlock." Mycroft's brief lip quirk soon hides itself again, but John feels his confidence rising enough that he says, "We can probably work this out, all of us. I mean, he's alive, so no real damage done. I'll get over it. We all will."

"Boring," Sherlock says, and John turns to look at him. "John, sometimes you impress me, and sometimes you really just...you don't."

John looks to Mycroft for some support, but Mycroft is taking a large sip of wine and pointedly ignoring Sherlock.

"You really thought he'd betray me, John? I'm his only weakness. Or, I was," Sherlock says, starting to cut into his...French...something.

"Yeah, I suppose he'll just have to cement up that hole, huh? State of the nation and all," John jokes, but Mycroft visibly winces and looks as if he might be contemplating leaving to hide out in the loo again. "No, sorry," John says quickly.

Sherlock laughs aloud. "Do you really think Mycroft's heart has cement around it?"

"I think he wishes it does," John says boldly. "But that's why the betrayal makes sense. More human than you, remember?" 

At this, Mycroft stares at John.

"No offense to either of you," John adds. "Just my own deduction."

Only, Mycroft doesn't quite look offended. He looks very thoughtful. Quickly, though, he looks away again.

"You're right, of course. Mycroft is very human. He is, however, a genius. He would never have allowed such a situation to arise if he didn't mean for it to," Sherlock says, raising his glass in a toasting gesture. He's actually eating pretty well, not that John can remember what it is he'd ordered. It doesn't look to John's taste, though.

John nods, then pauses. Wait.

_Wait._

"You mean to tell me it was planned?!" he says, staring at the two of them. 

"It really took you this long. John, your deductive skills are actively slipping."

"No, hang on," John says. "No. You mean I accused him of...and you, you just _let_ me?!" He points a finger at Mycroft.

Mycroft frowns in confusion. "It was part of the act," he says gently, like it's John's feelings that still matter here, and it pisses John off a bit.

"Do you feel anything?!" John demands, and when Mycroft seems to kind of shrink away, he sighs. "Sorry. Well, at least this explains the lack of signs of grief," he says thoughtfully. "This is what you were going to tell me outside, isn't it, Sherlock?" Sherlock nods. "Why wouldn't you want him to tell me, Mycroft?"

Mycroft looks sort of pinned into place, just staring at John, taking the anger, not reacting much except to periodically look away.

"Oh," Sherlock chimes in, "any number of reasons, John. Perhaps he was testing you. Perhaps he wanted you to realize it for yourself. Or maybe he feels he still deserves your scorn." He pauses, sighing. "You really didn't know, did you?"

No, John hadn't. John looks at Mycroft with sorrow for a moment. "You really would have supported me all this time, even if you would have been lying to my face." He shakes his head slightly. He hadn't had to suffer alone.

Mycroft finally speaks, softly, tentatively, half-dreading the task. "John, we knew that the path we'd chosen meant sacrifices. I accepted the consequences."

"Sherlock's back now. He's safe," John says gently. "I mean. It's going to be alright now, er, comparatively. I'm glad you two worked it out."

"I wanted to tell you," Mycroft says with what John suspects might be too much of a glare in his eyes—are those tears? Soon enough, they seem to be gone, with a bit of blinking. 

"I told him we couldn't," Sherlock says. "Blame me, if you have to. Don't blame Mycroft. And, John," Sherlock says, and Mycroft's eyes snap to Sherlock and widen.

Sherlock hesitates, then presses on. "I'm not the sacrifice he was referring to." Sherlock looks hard at John, and, cautiously, Mycroft turns to John as well.

John doesn't understand at first. 

"Wait. Me?!" Sherlock grins. "Me?! Hell, what am I going to do with the two of you?" John says, face definitely reddening now. 

"You're flushing," Sherlock says in triumph.

"I hate you both. I really do," John says, shaking his head. "And I suppose this is why that meddlesome PA told me to be gentle," John says, noting the way Mycroft's eyes narrow. "I was blaming a blameless man."

"No, John, that's not why she said that."

"Sherlock," Mycroft says warningly.

"She said that because Mycroft's heart has never been made of nor wrapped in concrete."

" _Stop_ ," Mycroft says, doing the flushing this time.

"It's more like glass wrapped in bubble wrap," Sherlock says with a huge grin.

Mycroft rests his forehead in the palm of his hand, glaring at Sherlock.

"And your name is etched into the glass!" Sherlock says to John, and John's eyes widen.

There's a clatter as Mycroft buries his face in both his hands and his spoon falls to the ground.

"It's okay, Mycroft," John says quickly. Sherlock is laughing, and John's doing his best not to. "Mycroft, it's okay."

"No, no it's really not," Sherlock says, laughing a little harder, and John steps on his foot to hush him, and it sort of works because he gets a bit quieter.

"People are staring," John hisses. "Don't start, cause I'll start. Mycroft, it's okay. My sister's outed me like that before too," he says. "Can you at least...can you look up?"

Face very pink, hair slightly mussed, Mycroft peers at John over his fingers with a mixture of mirth and trepidation before stepping on Sherlock's other foot.

"Sometimes I also hate Sherlock," he says to John, smoothing his hands down the side of his face once, doing his best to replace his calm mask.

"Do you really care about me that way?" John asks.

"Isn't it obvious?" Mycroft says, and John can't help but think he looks shy and adorable and can't help but remember that he thinks John is special for some inexplicable reason.

John's hand shoots out across the table, receiving a critical glance from Mycroft at the lack of manners before he accepts in a handshake position.

"I'll forgive you, if you forgive me," John says.

Mycroft raises an eyebrow.

Sherlock starts giggling again. "What a waste of a handshake," he says, but John's not done. John shushes him.

"And I think we've got some catching up to do, don't you?"

"That's more worthy of a handshake," Sherlock concedes as Mycroft nods and they seal the deal.

"He's not invited," John says, removing his hand and finding his fork again.

"Heavens no," says Mycroft quickly.

Though, Sherlock thinks, not being invited has never stopped him before.


End file.
